


An End Comes to All Good Things

by Gerec



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Angst, Bottom Erik Lehnsherr, But also, Charles Has Issues, Charles Xavier Needs a Hug, Communication Failure, Erik You Slut, Erik is a bastard in this fic, Everyone makes Very Bad Decisions, Infidelity, M/M, Pre-Break Up, Relationship Issues, Rough Sex, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:55:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24257764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec
Summary: Sometimes love isn't enough, and good relationships still end. For Erik it happens sooner than expected, when he begins an affair with his boss and mentor, Sebastian Shaw.For Charles, it happens later than it should, after a proposal that never happens.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr/Sebastian Shaw, Logan (X-Men)/Charles Xavier
Comments: 50
Kudos: 76





	1. Unfaithful

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing dirtybad Erik/Shaw pornz and this is what came out instead omg. Don't ask me where it came from or why anyone would want to read this but here it is anyway, just to get it out of my head lol. Also, Erik is TERRIBLE in this fic I KNOW; please don't send me comments about it I just wrote what the Muse wanted :D
> 
> This feels unfinished atm, which probably means I will do a second chapter in Charles' POV. Don't expect a happy ending though; this is definitely a fic about the end of their relationship. :(

“Erik,” Shaw says, as the others pack up and make their way out of the conference room, giving him pitying glances as they file out one by one, “close the door.”

They all think he’s in for it, given Shaw’s reputation and his general disposition; mostly charming and laidback until someone or something makes him angry. Then the man is cruel and vindictive and utterly implacable, and liable to tear a strip off you with a few choice, very pointed words.

It’s that ability to find the weakness in any person or situation and exploit it to an advantage, that makes him the best damn lawyer Erik has ever known.

It’s also the reason Charles hates him, hates that Erik is working for him, and hates that Shaw has taken Erik under his wing. 

But those aren’t the reasons for Shaw’s request, or why Erik locks the door behind him without being asked. It’s an entirely different reason – a worse one if he lets himself think about it for too long.

“Come here,” Shaw says, beckoning him over, to the head of the long conference table where he’s still seated in the tall leather chair. He pulls Erik onto his lap, hands gripping his buttocks as Erik moves to straddle his thighs. “I’ve been wanting to do this for the last hour.”

“Me too.” He pulls Shaw into a heated kiss, and groans at the feel of their erections grinding together, making his blood sing. “I thought Bell was never going to shut up about the Waverly case.”

“Hmm.” Shaw’s hand is warm against his heated skin, already slipping into his underwear after untucking his shirt from his trousers. “I don’t want to talk about the case right now. Do you, Erik?”

“No,” he says, and gasps when Shaw bites his bottom lip, at the same time that a long finger prods gently against Erik’s hole. “No, I want you to fuck me. Please.”

He knows what he’s asking; knows that it’s wrong, and not only because Shaw is his boss and mentor and in a position to make Erik’s life a living hell if things go badly with…whatever they’re doing behind closed doors. But that’s not nearly as bad as the fact that Erik is cheating on his partner of five years, no matter how much they’ve been fighting lately and how long they’ve been growing apart.

“I’m going to need a little help first, Mr. Lehnsherr,” Shaw says with a smirk, as Erik shuffles off his lap and shrugs impatiently out of his suit jacket. Dropping to his knees he pushes Shaw’s legs wide and settles between his thighs, adrenaline making it harder than it should – even with his powers – to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. “Make it good, boy, and I might consider bending you over this conference table again.”

Erik groans; just the thought of it is making him rock hard, his mouth already salivating as he pulls Shaw’s cock out with greedy hands. He’s done it enough times now that he knows just what to expect; the scent of the man’s soap mingled with sweat, filling his nostrils as he swallows the length of it down his throat. He knows that Shaw likes to grip his hair and hold him still until his eyes begin to water; knows he likes to look Erik in the eye as he’s being sucked, and watch avidly as his cock slips and slides through the tight ‘o’ of Erik’s lips.

He especially likes Erik’s mouth on him when they’re in his office, with Erik on his knees hidden under his desk.

It’s dangerous and immoral and Erik finds that he doesn’t really care; being around the man makes him feel invincible, and reckless, and eager to take on the whole world. Shaw gets him – his need for success, so what power he gains can’t be taken easily again – in a way that Charles can’t understand or truly appreciate, having lived his whole life with so much privilege and wealth. And he likes how far and how hard Shaw is willing to fight for mutant rights, to lead a war against the institutions and corporations that happily discriminate against their kind. 

“Yes, good,” Shaw whispers, after Erik sucks him deep and long enough to start drooling around his cock, hands gentle as he cards them through his hair. “Up and on the table, just the way you like it.”

Erik grins, licking the tip one more time before pulling off, and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I lubed up already, before the meeting started.”

“Naughty.” Shaw smiles, obviously pleased, which makes Erik’s heart race and his stomach flutter. It’s intoxicating, being on the receiving end of Shaw’s attention and approval, from someone Erik has admired from the start.

It feels dangerously close to something like love, overwhelming every other part of Erik’s orderly life. 

He slides his pants and underwear down to his ankles, bending over to press his chest on the polished oak. 

“That…is a lovely view,” he hears, making him flush, like he’s a schoolboy and not an associate in one of New York’s most prestigious law firms. A gust of hot breath ghosts against his skin, followed immediately by the press of two fingers, slipping in his hole. “Nice and wet, just as you said,” Shaw says with a chuckle, playfully slapping Erik’s ass as he moves into position. “I always did like your initiative, boy.”

And that’s the only warning he gets before Shaw starts pushing, pressing his cock against Erik’s hole until the tip eases past the rim. It stings, even with his earlier prep and the lube he can feel smeared all over Shaw’s prick, enough that he has to bite his lip and dig his fingers against the wood. Enough that he has to relax and breathe slowly through his nose, as Shaw keeps going, not letting him get used to the stretch, slowly sliding in until his entire cock is fucking him open. 

Enough that he forgets to ask about a condom, because he has a—

Because Charles.

He closes his eyes, and lets the pleasure override the guilt and the shame.

It’s easy, once Shaw starts driving his hips, hands gripping the flesh of his buttocks as he slams Erik hard against the conference table. He has no idea if the others can hear – he doesn’t think so, because the room should be soundproof after all – though he doesn’t think he can stop now even if they all came barging through the door. All he cares is how incredible it feels to be fucked by Shaw, his thick cock moving and filling him and rubbing against his walls; the way Shaw grunts each time he shoves in, driving deep, uncaring of the sounds he jars from Erik’s lips.

He comes when Shaw pulls him up and starts jerking him hard, one arm wrapped around Erik’s chest to hold up upright. His whole body seizes as he spurts all over the wood, his legs threatening to give out from under him as he bucks, as Shaw keeps ramming into him without pause. Even with his clenching, it’s another full minute or more before Shaw finally comes, dragging Erik with him in his lap as he falls back into his chair.

“You should come with me to L.A. and D.C.,” Shaw says, pressing a kiss to the back of Erik’s head, both of them still breathless in the aftermath of their romp. “Come to the meeting with me at the MRC. I’ll get you in front of the right faces, _and_ show you what we’re up against, with idiots like Trask and Kelly.” 

Erik grins. “Of course I’m coming with you. When do we leave?”

* * *

It’s late by the time he gets home, noting that it’s a quarter past one when he takes a quick glance at his cell. The place is quiet, and Erik lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, setting his keys and wallet carefully by the door. Better that Charles is already asleep and not waiting up for him until all hours of the night; he’s tired of fighting, and he knows Charles is tired of it too.

He’s exhausted, his body sore and aching not just from the long hours at the firm, bent over his laptop. His hole is still throbbing from Shaw’s cock, the muscles in his thighs tight from riding him in his bed. Shaw’s bed…and his couch, and his marble shower, so he can wash the come off his skin and out of his asshole. He knows – he _knows_ – it’s wrong, what he’s doing with Shaw, but the man is like a drug he can’t stop craving.

Maybe…

When gets back from their trip he’ll tell Charles the truth, and put an end to their misery. Neither of them are happy with the way things are, and truthfully – no matter that Charles doesn’t deserve this, or how much of an utter prick it makes him – Erik can’t find it in himself to be truly sorry for his affair with Shaw.

“Erik?”

He stiffens, heart racing like a thief in his own house, and he has to stop and take a moment before continuing into the bedroom. Charles is under the covers, propping himself up on one arm, eyes soft and hair tousled having clearly just woken up when he heard the front door.

He’s beautiful, and Erik’s heart squeezes so tightly that he can’t breathe from the pain.

“Sorry I woke you,” he says, turning away to shrug out of his suit, slipping on a t-shirt over his boxers without once looking at Charles on the bed. “Go back to sleep.”

“It’s alright. How was your day?”

“Good.”

He walks into the ensuite to relieve himself and brush his teeth, but not before he hears Charles sigh.

“That’s it? Just good? Nothing else interesting happened with work?”

Erik flushes, and cranks the tap to the max as he washes his hands. Annoyance wells up along with the guilt, dread and the high he’s still coming off from his time with Shaw slowing turning into frustrated anger.

“It was work, Charles. Nothing you’d understand.”

Charles snorts. “I have two PhDs, _Erik_. I think I might be able to follow along even when you use big words.”

“That’s not—” He shakes his head, spitting the toothpaste out and jabbing the toothbrush back in the holder with a grunt. “I’m still on the Waverly case. It’s boring, but it has to be done. That’s all.”

When he comes out of the ensuite, Charles is sitting up in the bed, the glow of the reading light making his eyes seem sharp and accusing. Erik is _so tired_ – tired of hating himself and hating Charles; of constantly disappointing the man he’s been in love with since their first year in university.

Whatever he sees on Erik’s face makes Charles hesitate, before his expression softens and he flips the covers over and pats the bed. “Alright. Just come to bed.”

He…can’t, not when he can still feel Shaw’s hands on him, and the man’s cock inside him every time he moves. “I’m not tired. I’m just going to watch TV for a little while.”

“Erik.” He’s already half turned towards the door, but Charles’ voice stops him in his tracks. “I’ve been thinking…we haven’t spent much time together lately—”

“I _told_ you, I just have to get through this case, Charles—”

“—and I thought we could maybe go away this weekend? Just the two of us? Anywhere you want; you can choose.”

His stomach lurches, because no matter what he doesn’t want to disappoint Charles again, only—

“I can’t. I have to go to L.A. and D.C. on a business trip. Shaw’s taking me to meet with the Mutant Rights Coalition.”

“Do you really have to go?”

Erik bristles. “Charles—”

“Fine.” Charles exhales and scrubs his face with both hands, before he flops back onto the bed and flips the reading light off by his head. “I know your job is important. We’ll do it another time.”

He crawls onto the bed and wraps his arms around Charles, the warmth of his back pressed against Erik’s chest. “We will.” Then he remembers something and adds, “Didn’t you have a symposium to attend this weekend?”

Charles laughs, and though it’s muffled he can tell it’s not a happy sound. “I was going to cancel. But now I guess I don’t have to.”

For a moment Erik considers it; just blurting out the words ‘it’s over’, ending it now instead of dragging out the pain. Charles is a telepath after all – he has to _know_ what Erik’s been doing behind his back, all the times he’s with Shaw, doing and sharing the things the two of _them_ are supposed to be doing together.

Maybe it’s the same reason Erik is still here, because a part of him can’t really bear to totally let go.

His throat hurts, and his eyes are starting to sting, but he manages to get it out without letting any of his turmoil colour his words. “Then I guess it worked out then, for the both of us.”

* * *

Two days later, seated next to Shaw on the plane with a glass of champagne in hand, he gets a text from Raven, sent to him and to Charles.

_‘Happy Anniversary you guys! Have fun celebrating this weekend! Miss you both!!! xoxo’_

“Something wrong, Erik?” Shaw murmurs, his hand grazing his inner thigh and giving it a squeeze. He wants to scream, because _how_ could he forget it was their anniversary? And why didn’t Charles say something? Instead of keeping it all inside, making himself miserable, making Erik the bad guy, as though he hadn’t done the same damn thing…

He shoves the cell into his jacket pocket, and downs the glass in his hand with a mirthless laugh.

“No,” he says as he grips Shaw’s hand like a lifeline, “just something I forgot about, that’s all.”


	2. Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles knows it's the end, even if he still doesn't understand how they got here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some unpleasant language in this chapter, that Charles uses when he's referring to Erik so just be aware. Also, I don't think Charles' way of handling this is particularly sane/appropriate/mature lol, no matter what Erik did to hurt him, but that's just my own humble opinion :D
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this fic, even if it's angsty without a happy ending! Also, I just want to make clear that I don't plan to write any more of this story; for now Erik and Charles are walking different paths, and that's probably for the best, given the state of things...

He keeps the ring close for the next two days, inside his suit or in his trouser pocket, a weight that feels heavier and heavier with each hour that passes. A trip out of town is no longer an option, given Erik’s plan to fly out Thursday night, but Charles still has time to do this if he can just find a moment that feels right… 

It’s hard to remember, the last time things with Erik felt normal and right.

Dinner is quiet, and Erik is mostly on his cell, shooting texts back and forth with people from work (actually Shaw) about covering his cases (actually details about their trip) while he’s away. These days Erik’s every waking minute seems to be consumed by Shaw, and the affair they’re having behind Charles’ back. Not that it’s really a secret, since he’s a telepath; Erik’s guilt is so loud it gives him an almost constant headache.

But even if he wasn’t blaring it in his mind – and it’s increasingly clear that Erik wants Charles to _know_ , to confront him and break things off, doing the dirty work for him so he doesn’t have to actually say the words – Erik isn’t exactly being discreet, leaving more and more obvious clues for Charles to find. Working sessions with his boss that turn into late night dinners, coming home smelling of scotch and another man’s cologne. Bruises that Charles didn’t leave, on the curve of his hips; his gait a little careful in the morning, when he hadn’t even come to bed the night before.

Charles doesn’t have to read his mind to know; Erik is utterly infatuated with Shaw, and he’s already too late.

They make love (is it love, if he can’t look you in the eye?) and it feels like goodbye, like he’s touching a stranger wearing his lover’s face. There’s a moment _during_ , when Charles is sinking into Erik that he thinks there might still be something there, buried deep; the way Erik’s expression cracks open as he gasps Charles’ name. But it’s gone as soon as it’s over, with Erik swinging his long legs off the bed and heading into the ensuite, leaving Charles still breathless and dazed.

He doesn’t come back into the bedroom, and spends the night on the couch instead.

Charles says ‘Have a good trip’ and Erik says ‘I’ll see you when I get back’ and they both know they don’t mean it, and that they’re at the end of everything. 

The ring is still in his pocket the next day. And the next.

He’s so drunk he thinks about calling Erik in L.A. - to yell at him or beg him not to leave him, he has no idea what he’ll say – when he remembers that Erik isn’t alone…

Erik is probably on his hands and knees for Shaw right now, he thinks, letting that bastard rail him up the ass like a horny bitch.

He laughs, and then he starts sobbing, curled on the floor of their bedroom like the world is coming to an end. Like a fucking hormonal teenager instead of a respected Genetics Professor at Columbia, who can do so much better than a cheating asshole like Erik fucking Lehnsherr…

The sound of the front door jolts him awake, a familiar voice floating in from the living room, devoid of the usual gruff edge.

“Chuck? You in there?”

He grabs the bed and pulls himself into a sitting position, and promptly throws up all over the hardwood floor. 

“The fuck happened to you? Jesus bub, hang on.”

Staring up at the retreating form, Charles shifts so he can lean back and tilt his head onto the bed. “Logan? What are you doing here?”

There's the sound of running water in the ensuite, and then a warm washcloth being pressed to his face, a large hand wiping the vomit gently from his chin and his collar. “You called me, remember? I came as soon as the bar closed.”

Charles squints; it’s dark outside his window, so it must still be the middle of the night. “What time is it?”

“Three in the morning.” Logan sighs, and brushes the matted hair from his forehead. “You two get in a fight?”

He laughs, sounding more than a little hysterical to his own ears. “Oh we’re well past _that_ ,” he says with a sneer. “Erik is on a business trip with his boss. They’ve been fucking for weeks now, Logan. _Weeks._ He didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me, or break things off first. God I just…I just want to punch him in the face! His stupid, smug, gorgeous fucking face.” 

“Fuck.” Logan is quiet for a moment, expression carefully neutral as he surveys the mess of liquor bottles strewn all over the bedroom floor. “Okay. Let’s just get some sleep and we’ll deal with it in the morning all right? I’m going to help you up…put your arm around my neck.”

And just like that he’s being lifted up and cradled in Logan’s arms, like he weighs nothing, like he’s not a pathetic drunk stinking of sweat and alcohol and vomit. No, Logan merely presses a soothing kiss on the top of his head, and then helps him tug off his dirty clothes before tucking him into bed.

“Why did we ever break up, Logan, hmm?” he mutters, reaching to tug Logan close, refusing to let go of his hand. “You’re so good to me, and you have such a good heart.”

If Logan answers him he doesn’t hear it, already drifting off to soft rumbling breaths, and the feel of thick fingers carding through his hair. 

* * *

“Charles,” the voice calls through the fog in his head, followed by the sound of a glass being set on his nightstand. It must be Erik he thinks; Erik came home early, Erik came home to _Charles_ , because he’s finally seen Shaw for the cruel bastard he is, and realized his future is here at his side.

“Come on, you’ll feel better once you take these,” the voice adds, the voice he now recognizes as Logan, as strong arms wrap around his shoulders and a chest settles against his back, bracing him as he pops two aspirin into Charles’ mouth. He helps too with the glass of water he holds steady against his lips, until he’s finished it all and flops back against the pillow.

Not Erik, who’s never coming back to him; who will only come back now just to pick up his things.

* * *

He feels better the next time he wakes, once he stumbles into the bathroom and washes his face. Logan offers him green tea – ‘you should keep some ginger around, it’s better for hangovers, Chuck’ – and some scrambled eggs, and he manages to keep both down along with another dose of aspirin. Almost human again, he thinks, throwing a clean shirt on top of his boxers, and a little less like he wants to die and take the whole world with him.

Logan sits at the end of the bed and says nothing, just watching him with patient eyes, with none of the judgement he might get from Raven, or the vague disinterest he’s been getting from Erik for weeks and months. He’s the best fucking friend Charles has ever had, and one he frankly doesn’t deserve.

Not that he isn’t selfish enough to take Logan’s support right now, when nothing else helps and nothing makes sense.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for dragging you into my mess.”

Logan sighs. “I told you before, we’re still friends, Chuck. You can always call if you need me.”

“Stop it,” Charles snaps, because it makes him feel worse and not better, after everything that happened between the three of them, even years later. “Stop being a fucking saint and tell me I got what was coming to me. You _told_ me Erik would break my heart; that he was a right bastard and god…you were right, Logan. You can say it – you were right.”

Better if Logan yells at him, because he wants to fight right now, and lash out; anything to stop feeling this great gaping hole in his heart.

“Even if I was right about Lehnsherr,” Logan says, “I got no reason to rub your nose in it—”

“You should hate me,” he snarls, “I did the same thing to you.”

Logan shakes his head. “You didn’t. You fell in love with somebody else, that’s all. We weren’t living together, and we weren’t together for years, Chuck. Don’t use me to beat yourself up over this; it’s not your fault.”

“It _is_ my fault!” He wants to scream, or tear the house apart by the seams; _anything_ to just stop hurting so fucking much he can scarcely breathe. “He was so in love with me, Logan. We were so in love…and I just let that slip through my fingers like an idiot. He wanted to get married years ago and I said no, because it was too soon, and I still had so much to do and we were both so busy and I…”

“What, Chuck?” Logan prompts, his hand reaching to wrap itself around Charles’ ankle. “Say it. Get it off your chest.”

He shudders, and takes a deep breath. “I didn’t trust it. Him. To last. And it didn’t.”

“Well, you were right not to get married yeah? If you weren’t ready? Cause I gotta say…you might have just ended up in exactly the same place.”

There’s not much that Charles can say to refute it, what Logan says, so he just sits and picks at the loose thread unraveling from the corner of his sheet. Loose thread…loose ends…loose boyfriend, he thinks, and suddenly he’s laughing at the absurdity of it – of life – and how two people who loved each other so much could fuck it up so so badly.

“You know it’s our anniversary today.”

“Yeah?”

“He forgot about it. I mean, I assume he did since he didn’t say anything to me before he left. And he hasn’t called.” He stops, and huffs a tired sigh. “He probably thinks I deserve it anyway. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t done it to him, before. Getting caught up with work and forgetting an anniversary.”

Logan scoffs, his brow furrowing and face pinched with frustration and Charles thinks – fucking _finally_ ; now he’s going to tell Charles off properly, instead of being so goddamn _nice_ about his fucking shit show of a life.

“Look I got no business telling you anything about you and Lehnsherr alright? But shit happens in relationships all the time, and it’s still no excuse to go and stick your dick someplace it don’t belong. So don’t try and let him off the hook, Chuck. He’s a big boy and he knew what he was doin’.”

“Yeah.” The man is right, and Charles needs to put a stop to this – feeling sorry for himself, trying to come up with excuses for them both, just _fucking everything_ – and get the fuck out. “God, I can’t stay here another night. I just…I can’t deal with this, with _Erik_ , after everything…”

He hoists himself up and heads past Logan into the walk-in closet, grabbing his suitcase and flinging it open on the bed. Sure, maybe he’s the one being a coward now by running away, but it’s what he knows, and what he does, and it’s better than the alternative, isn’t it? Replaying images of Erik fucking Shaw - snippets he picked up from Erik’s dreams and memories - while he wakes up every morning alone in their bed.

“You want me to call your sister?”

“No!” Charles doesn’t want to talk to Raven right now, or anyone else for that matter. He doesn’t want to _explain_ _what happened_ , considering he has no idea how they let things get this far beyond salvaging. “I’m going to take my stuff and go to a hotel or something. ‘Til I can find a new place.”

“Okay then, do you need some help packing?”

“Thanks, but no. I’m just taking my clothes. There’s nothing else here that can’t be replaced.”

 _Even Erik_ , he wants to snark, but bites his tongue and shoves an entire dresser drawer full of stuff into his suitcase.

It still takes longer than he expects, and sometime during his mad rush Logan leaves and returns from somewhere with a few boxes, helping Charles fill them with books and papers and stuff he should have left at his office. He leaves everything else behind – pictures, mementos, gifts; anything that reminds him of Erik – determined to move on without anything to have or to look at that might make him change his mind.

“Is that everything?” Logan asks, once they’ve set the suitcase and boxes by the front door, and Charles takes a last sweep of the place, before returning to the bedroom. A great well of sorrow threatens to overwhelm him, weakening his resolve, and Charles eyes are watering suddenly and he can’t fucking breathe, and he has to sit down and take a moment to pull himself together.

Then he grabs Logan’s bicep and yanks hard, tumbling them both on top of the bed.  
  
It’s been a long time since he’s been with Logan, but he still knows just what to do, nibbling hard on his bottom lip as he flips over to straddle his thighs. There’s an answering growl as Charles grinds down on top of him, his ass rubbing against those tight jeans and that thick cock – half-hard just from their sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Blood is rapidly rushing from Charles’ head to his own erection, and he lets himself sink into it, the lust and the heady thrill of what he’s going to do, fucking someone else – someone Erik hates, as much as Charles hates Sebastian Shaw – in the bed the two of them share.

Shared.

He feels a vicious swell of satisfaction too, vindictive and ugly, and part of him knows he’s better than this, and that _Logan_ deserves better; that Charles shouldn’t use his friend and ex-lover for a bit of petty, useless revenge. But knowing that for all the times Erik’s fucked Shaw he’s never done _this_ – bringing the man here, and fucking him in _their home,_ in _their bed_ —

It’s exhilarating, and makes him feel like he’s getting back some of the control he’s lost since the affair began.

“This what you need, Chuck?” is the only thing Logan says, as they’re stripping each other bare on top of the sheets, and Charles is grabbing condoms and lube from his nightstand. He doesn’t judge, or try to talk Charles out of this; doesn’t condescend to ask Charles if he’s sure, or tell him he’s making ( _he knows he is_ ) a stupid mistake. 

No, his biggest mistake was trying to warn Erik about Shaw, and having Erik turn his concern into a personal offence; for thinking that a man’s inner thoughts are an indicator of his intentions, and for daring to malign the monster he worships.

And all he can think about is Erik – _Erik, Erik, Erik_ like a mantra in his head – until Logan is pushing into him, one hand on Charles’ hip and the other around his neck, shoving him face down against the mattress. It hurts like hell, even with the lube and Logan’s prep, because Charles can’t relax his body, or wait a second longer to have the man’s cock fucking him open. He growls at Logan to _‘fucking move’_ , and ‘ _make me feel it’_ , and that’s exactly what he gets; the entire length driving deep and digging in, the weight of his balls _slap slapping_ at Charles’ flesh.

He comes all over the sheets, and wipes his cock clean with Erik’s pillow.

Then he takes the used condom off Logan and tosses it on the bed, next to the ring box he doesn’t need, and never wants to look at again.

“It’s exactly what I needed,” Charles says, just before he closes the front door, and follows Logan – and what’s left of his life in a few cardboard boxes – to the elevator.

* * *

Charles moves to England four weeks later, to take a position at Oxford University.

Erik marries Sebastian Shaw, and becomes a full partner in Shaw’s law firm.

Neither of these things last forever – or in Erik’s case, for very long at all.


End file.
